//------------------------------//
// King Sombra Is Smoking In Your Bed (Hoopy McGee) 
// Story: Fimfic Authors Are In Your Bed 
// by Admiral Biscuit 
//------------------------------//

King Sombra is smoking in your bed. 
Hoopy McGee


  You’re barely through the front door of your apartment when you see it: smoke, curling up lazily into the hallway from underneath your closed bedroom door. In an instant, pure fury solidifies in you. You drop your packages and stomp across the floor, heedless of the noise you’re making for your downstairs neighbors. This is it. You’ve had it. Enough is finally enough. 

 Your first stop is in the kitchen. You fling open the doors to the cupboard under the sink and grab the portable fire extinguisher you bought after Vinyl Scratch’s first appearance, and then you stomp towards the bedroom door, stoking your rage as you go. 

  The rage feels good. You are striding along the top of Mount Righteous Fury, and you are understandably high on the feeling. It is way past time to deal with this ridiculous pony problem, you decide.

  “That’s it!” you roar as you approach the bedroom, pulling the safety tab off of the fire extinguisher as you go. “I’ve had it with you ponies!” You stop and put your hand on the door. Even angry, you’re not stupid enough to open a door if there seems to be a fire on the other side. You’ve seen the movie Backdraft. 

  The door is cool to the touch, meaning that the fire is at least not burning out of control yet. You turn the handle and push the door open while shouting, “Vinyl, if you’ve set fire to my bedsheets again, I’m gonna…” 

  You trail off, staring in shock at your bedroom. Black smoke obscures everything, going from one wall to the other. But, you realize, there’s no smell of anything burning. Just inky black smoke, looking like oily shadows churning in your bedroom. That’s when you realize that there is no smell… or, at least, not the smell of burning. There is some kind of funk coming out of your room, though. It smells like concentrated gym socks. 

  A pair of eyes open. Eyes of unspeakable horror, red irised with glowing green scleras. What looks like violet fire streams from the eyes, giving it a look of pure evil and making your guts feel like they’re filled with ice water. The wickedly sharp, pulsing red horn in between and slightly above those eyes doesn’t help you feel any better. 

  When the eyes focus on you, you feel yourself falling off the top of Mount Righteous Fury and tumbling straight down into the Icy Ravine of Oh-God-I’m-Going-To-Wet-Myself. It’s like the eyes somehow absorbed all your fury, because you can feel the hate emanating from them. 

  You attempt to say something disarming, something along the lines of, “Oh, pardon me. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please, go on about your business while I leave and go rent a hotel room in another state.” Instead, all you manage is a weak-sounding “Urk…” noise, your Adam’s apple bobbing as you try to force words out of your too-dry throat. 

  The smoke growls. You don’t know how, you don’t know why, but it growls, and you’re vaguely aware of the knuckles on your left hand going white as you hold the fire extinguisher in a deathgrip. But that’s not the worst of it, oh no. The worst is when a voice, a guttural and hateful voice, speaks. 

  “Human!” the voice roars. 

  “Eep!” you manage to reply. 

  “Die!” the red-and-green-eyed monster replies as it rushes towards you. 

  You’re not even aware of bringing up the fire extinguisher, and you certainly don’t recall sending any orders to press the trigger. And yet, a fine yellow powder somehow shoots out of the end of it, hitting the thing right in what is presumably its face. 

  The thing stops, staring at you. You stare back. There’s a whole lot of staring going on. And then the smoke-cloud-thing rears back, starts blinking furiously and begins screaming. 

  “Yargh! You got that right in my eyes! What the blazes is wrong with you?!” the thing roars. 

  “Uh…” is your witty comeback. 

  “Ah! Aaaagh! I can’t see… I can’t see! What was that?!” 

  “Fire ‘stingsher,” you mumble, holding it out as if by way of explanation. You’re feeling a little out of your element. This is no surprise, as you have very little experience in talking to sentient, evil clouds of smoke. 

  “Well, why did you spray it in my eyes?!” 

  You honestly consider that for a moment. “You rushed me while screaming ‘Die!’, remember? Seemed like the right thing to do at the time.” 

  The cloud creature ignores your rational explanation. 

  “What’s in that? Could I go blind?” Now the rumbling voice is starting to go panicky as it starts blinking rapidly while crying tears of green fire. “Oh, crystal shards! I’m going to go blind, aren’t I?” 

  For some reason, you start to feel a little bad. As if there weren’t a giant smoke monster with evil eyes and an extremely pointy horn in your bedroom. 

  “Hold on, I’ll read the label.” 

  “Well, hurry! Please!” the smoke monster pleads. The green of its eyes is now a pulsating bloodshot red. This does not improve their appearance at all. 

  “Right, right… okay, ‘aim away from face’.” You snort. “No duh. Okay, what to do in case of accidental contact… Oh.” 

  “‘Oh’?” the smoke-thing replies. “What do you mean, ‘oh’?!” You hear an alarming sniffling sound coming from the bedroom. “Am… am I going to die?” 

  “Uhh… Hmm. Nah. Looks like you’ll probably be fine if we just rinse your eyes out with water for fifteen minutes.” 

  The sniffling continues for a moment, then slowly dies off. “...oh,” the smoke thing says. “Well, could we do that? Because, no lie, this burns like an ifrit’s hemorrhoids.” 

  Well, isn’t that a lovely image? you think to yourself. Out loud, you say, “Well, I don’t know…”

  “I’m in pain, here!” 

  “Yeah, but you did sort of invade my bedroom.” 

  “Well… yes, but—” 

  “And you did rush at me like you were gonna try and eat my face off, or something.” 

  “I was… uh... just playing.” 

  You consider it for a while as the smoke-thing blinks and whines at you. Your shoulders slump as you give in. You simply can’t abide having someone suffering while not doing something to help. 

  “Alright, fine. Come on, let’s get you in the shower.” A thought occurs to you, then. “Uh. You’re not going to wash down the drain or anything, are you?” 

  “What? Oh, yes. One moment,” the creature replies. Then the smoke contracts, although it occurs to you that ‘coagulates’ might be a better description. It forms itself into the body of a black-maned grey unicorn wearing some sort of metal headdress and neck piece, with a red cape across its back. 

  “Wait, you’re a pony?” You blink, pieces suddenly clicking into place. “Oh! You’re that guy, um… King... Somber?” 

  “Sombra!” the unicorn snaps, still blinking and crying green, fiery tears which sizzle when they fall on your carpet. “You know me?” 

  “Uh, sort of?” You shrug, deciding it’s best not to mention how forgettable you thought his appearance was. 

  “Ah. My fame precedes me, then!” Sombra says. He walks forward, only to smack horn-first with your wall. “Curses!” 

  “Let’s get you into that shower,” you say. 

  You lead the occasionally-whimpering dark-magic-using monster unicorn through your apartment hallway to the bathroom. You turn on the shower while Sombra removes all the bits of metal plating and his cape. You manage to stifle a snort of laughter at the sight; without all that junk he was wearing, he just looks like a bad OC. 

  Sombra steps into your shower and lets the water rush over his face, blinking and sighing in contentment. You decide to leave him there and go open a window or two in your bedroom, to let it air out. 

  It occurs to you, while Sombra is rinsing the extinguisher powder out of his eyes, that you now have an evil unicorn in your shower. Unicorns, amongst other things, can levitate items. You decide that it may be a good idea to hide anything sharp and pointy, and spend a few minutes hiding your kitchen knives and assorted cutlery in the freezer, where only an idiot would look for them. 

  Then you wait, while Sombra uses up all the hot water for your apartment complex. After a few minutes, you decide that it may be a good idea to come up with a distraction. To that end, you head to the living room, fire up Youtube on your TV-connected laptop, and start looking through documentaries. 

  You hear the shower turn off just as you find one that might do the trick. A moment later, King Sombra’s voice echoes through your apartment. 

  “Human scum!” he roars. “Where are you?” 

  “Out here,” you call back. 

  Sombra’s hooves stomp closer as you sit in your armchair, trying to look relaxed. This is a very difficult thing to do when a murderous unicorn monster is growling and marching closer to you. 

  “Human! We have unfinished business, you and I!” Sombra says as he comes into view. 

  “How are the eyes?” you ask. 

  That puts Sombra off of his paces. His eyes, still red-rimmed, blink a few times in confusion. “Uh. Quite well, actually. Thank you.” He shakes his head and clears his throat. “As I was saying, we have unfinished—” 

  You take this opportunity to lift up the fire extinguisher, which you had sitting on the floor next to you, and place it in your lap. Sombra eyes it warily. 

  “I’m sorry,” you say, with your hand on the trigger. “I didn’t mean to cut you off. You were saying?” 

  “I, uh… was saying, ‘what a nice home you have’!” 

  Sombra flashes a pathetically fake fang-filled smile. You nod graciously. 

  “Thanks. By the way, I think I found something you might be interested in.” You gesture towards the couch. “Please, have a seat.” 

  Sombra eyes you warily as he steps cautiously past you. His eyes keep flicking towards the fire extinguisher, then back to you. Then he looks over at the TV and freezes. 

  The documentary is called “Into The Lost Crystal Caves.” You hit play. 

  “Ahhh…” Sombra says, sighing in quiet satisfaction as he reclines on my sofa. “Crystallllllsssss…” 

  You know, it turns out that when he’s not trying to murder you, King Sombra is a pretty chill guy.